Music for Renesmee
by MyEdward797
Summary: A Breaking Dawn missing moment. During Bella's transformation, Edward comes to terms with his love for Renesmee. **Now a series of oneshots featuring Edward and Nessie.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note - This idea wouldn't leave me alone. I've wanted to write it for weeks, and finally got around to actually doing it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight**

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Music for Renesmee

Edward's POV

My fingers drifted across the piano keys absentmindedly as I played Bella's lullaby. My mind wasn't on the music, and goodness knows my silent heart wasn't either, but I had continued to play faithfully for two days, in the hopes that, wherever Bella was, she could hear me.

I glanced over my shoulder, never ceasing the music. Bella lay stretched out on my bed, her arms at her sides. Her eyes were scrunched closed tightly, and her mouth was twisted into a grimace. If I didn't think too hard about what I knew was happening inside her body, I could almost imagine that she was only concentrating very seriously on something, instead of going through the process that would force her to relinquish her soul.

The blood was gone now. I had cleaned it up immediately two days before, and afterwards, Alice had changed Bella into a tight blue dress. At first, I had protested on that particular choice of clothing. She was joining the legions of the damned, not going to prom, however much I wished I could say otherwise. But Alice had vehemently refused me, insisting that, when Bella awoke, she would want to look nice. Not wanting to think about what three days would bring, I had let it drop.

I watched Bella now, and was grateful for Alice's stubbornness. My angel was beautiful, vampire or not. If I had to spend the rest of eternity convincing her of that, I would. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, still playing her lullaby. The only other sound in the room was Bella's heartbeat, the pace of which continued to steadily decrease.

I had no way of knowing whether or not the morphine was actually working, but if Bella's still, quiet form was anything to go by, then perhaps Carlisle's experiment was proving successful. I could only pray that whatever force had created her wouldn't allow my beautiful angel to suffer.

Although she'd certainly suffered enough in the last two weeks.

Whenever I thought of Renesmee, my face would subconsciously soften, and my fingers slowed over the keys. Despite all the pain she had forced Bella through, I could not bring myself to feel remorse for what had passed. I knew it was wrong, and my entire being naturally shied away from anything that threatened my Bella, but when I though of Renesmee, all I wanted was to have her instantly in my arms, staring up at me with those large, intelligent brown eyes; the chocolate orbs that were so like her mother's.

My daughter. My own flesh and…blood. Oh, the irony.

As a vampire, I wasn't subject to much change throughout my existence. I hadn't been aware that anything could alter me so drastically the way Bella had. I hadn't believed that I'd possessed that quantity of love. But Renesmee had proved me wrong.

A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupted my musings. I reluctantly murmured an equally quiet, "come in". Despite the fact that I knew Bella wasn't aware of what was going on around her, I still felt an urge to maintain a peaceful atmosphere within my room. Whether it was werewolf or vampire, whoever was outside would be able to hear me.

Rosalie opened the door with her free hand and glided into the room soundlessly, privy to my wishes. Her arms were curled tightly around Renesmee, and she didn't break her gaze with the little girl as she crossed the room to me.

I grimaced. Only the unique situation that Renesmee presented us with would account for the schedule we needed to regulate. If she wasn't with me, she was with the dog, and if she wasn't with Jacob, who I would just as soon rip limb by limb, she was with Rosalie. Then, every few hours, Carlisle would take her to be examined. The rate at which she developed was startling, and I worried about what that might mean later.

But I refused to let it bother me as Rosalie reluctantly transferred Renesmee to my eagerly awaiting arms. I didn't say a word to Rosalie, who left with one last longing look in my daughter's direction, muttering something about 'that damn mutt' as she closed the door behind her. I ignored her as I held Renesmee close to my chest, staring into her exquisite chocolate eyes. She gazed right back at me with a solemn, but very aware, face. Then, suddenly, her lips split into a brilliant, glowing smile, and I could do nothing but grin back. How was it possible that anyone could equal Bella's beauty? Renesmee wasn't just breaking physical boundaries either. She was also breaking the boundaries of my heart, boundaries that had previously been restricted for Bella alone.

Renesmee reached up to pat my neck, and I leaned closer to give her better access to my skin. Although I could read her mind – she hadn't gained that particular trait from her mother – I still loved the feel of her warm little hand against my neck as she relayed the events of her day.

A series of images flashed through my mind as soon as we came in contact. Rosalie was holding Renesmee lovingly, humming a soothing melody in her ear. Carlisle was asking her to stretch as he lay out a measuring tape beside her and afterwards took her temperature. She sighed in boredom but complied. Then Alice danced down the stairs with a handful of clothes to fit her in. Apparently, that process had been long and tedious. I chuckled.

But for all the memories featuring the various members of my family, there were still more starring the mutt. Jacob's face appeared in nearly every image, hovering in the background like a mother hen, or up close, bouncing Renesmee on his knee and grinning at her, calling her by that wretched nickname, Nessie. Despite my aversion to the name, it had caught on quickly, and now it was even beginning to rub off on me.

I emitted a low growl as Jacob swung Renesmee around. I understood that he was only playing, but he was a bit rough for my taste, although Renesmee was nearly as indestructible as I was.

Renesmee patted my neck again impatiently as she realized she had lost my attention, and wondered what was wrong with the memory. She liked Jacob. She had fun with him. She flashed another blinding smile at me, showing off Jacob's face again. She obviously adored him. I sighed in submission and smiled down at her, unable to resist her for long. Just like with her mother, I found it difficult not to give in to Renesmee's demands. As long as she loved him, Jacob was safe from me, and I couldn't help but feel a bit disgruntled that we would never have our day of reckoning.

Renesmee's last image was always the same. Bella's face, weary and bloody, stared down at her lovingly. Of course, I had painfully watched that picture from a different perspective, but I still recalled Bella's adoring face as she gazed at her daughter. At the time, I couldn't understand how she could love so unconditionally the creature killing her. Despite having heard her thoughts through Bella's womb, I still had had an aversion to the thing taking my love away from me.

It was amazing how drastically two days had changed that.

Renesmee's picture changed suddenly, but now Bella's face was deathly pale and her eyes were closed. The tremor of Renesmee's thoughts became anxious and concerned. I brushed my fingers gently across her cheek in a soothing motion, and leaned down further to kiss her burning forehead. She was nearly as hot as the dog.

"She'll be alright," I whispered, trying to assure myself as much as my daughter. Renesmee studied me carefully, as if trying to determine whether or not I was lying to her. Her intelligence level was astounding, although I supposed I should have expected nothing less of Bella's child, half-vampire or not. I tried to make my smile more genuine, but the usual ease with which I lied was dissolved in the face of Bella's suffering.

Renesmee whimpered, sensing my distress. She snuggled closer to my chest and threw another memory at me. This time, it was an image of me at the piano, my hands flitting over the keys with startling speed and precision. It was Bella's lullaby of course, and Renesmee's delight was apparent in the way she smiled hugely up at me. She strained her head to get a look at the piano we were sitting in front of, and then looked back up at me. Even without my interpreting her thoughts, her meaning was clear; she wanted to hear me play again.

Eager to please her, I set Renesmee down carefully in my lap. She was already developed enough to sit up with relative ease, and she rested her little head on my stomach. I stroked her chestnut curls with my hand, reveling in the feeling of _my_ daughter curled up on _my_ lap. Was it really possible for one person – an eternally damned person, no less – to receive so much in such a short time? I had spent a century searching for the missing pieces of my soul, but it had only taken a day to find them and bind them together. It hardly seemed fair, when I was getting two angels, and they were getting a monster. A monster who was too selfish to let them go.

Renesmee squirmed impatiently in my arms, and I chuckled. That was a trait she'd inherited from me. My left hand stopped the rotation through her hair and joined my right on the piano keys, before I started to play. I began with Esme's favorite first, and delighted in the satisfaction of Renesmee's thoughts as I continued to play. Encouraged by her contented thoughts, my speed increased, my dead heart soaring with the music.

I was marginally aware of the passage of time as I played, and my fingers only relaxed and slowed when I felt Renesmee's hand reach out to touch my arm. Her thoughts were restless, as if she was waiting for something. I delved within her mind to discover what she wanted. I didn't have to look far.

She wanted Bella's song. The lullaby. I smiled, having no aversion to indulging her.

I leaned down to kiss her curls and I was abruptly overwhelmed by the love radiating from her tiny body, and the love that I was in turn pouring into her. The term 'father' hadn't yet registered within me, but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that my love for Renesmee was pure and unconditional. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her.

Bella's lullaby came as easily to me as it always did. The sweet, yet somehow haunting melody made me ache for my angel…ache for her sacrifices, the pain I had wrought upon her…and for the life she could have had if I wasn't a monster.

And yet…there was something about the music; the counter melody that weaved through the notes, the harmony that skimmed the nearly concealed melody…something pure…something real and wonderful…something that promised redemption…

I looked down at Renesmee solemnly, rejoicing in the way she seemed transfixed by the music. She was the cause for the sudden change in the notes, the evolution of the melody into a new and exotic sound that I hadn't heard before. It told of the long, heartbreaking journey of bitterness and angry self-loathing that abruptly became a fiery passion, a love to last a lifetime, and a strange peace of mind that was new to me because I had never let myself accept true happiness before now.

At first, Renesmee seemed puzzled by the sudden changes I was making. She touched my arm in confusion, but I kissed her head again to reassure her and continued to play, the melody coming easily; so easily, like I had known it all throughout my existence, I just hadn't known how to play it. Hints of Bella's lullaby whirled through it, brushing against the melody as if reminding it not to forget.

The song was so distinctly its own self, but I recognized Bella and myself within it. It built itself off of us, adding its own unique elements as it neared the climax. It was a part of us, and yet, not us at all.

It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing, but when I did, I smiled. I was listening to Renesmee.

Renesmee's song.

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**Author's Note - Like it? Hope so. I'm debating whether or not to turn this into a series of oneshots featuring Edward and Renesmee, because there just wasn't enough of them together in Breaking Dawn. If you want me to continue, tell me in a review, and if I get enough positive feedback I will. But it's going to go under 'Complete' until further notice. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note- **Please don't hurt me. I know I'm a terrible updater. Chapter Three of Someday Out of the Blue should have been up over two weeks ago. I have no excuses. But, I'm hoping that this should be some consolation. I got inspired on Friday and have been working on this chapter nonstop since then. It is now a little past midnight and I have finally finished. Phew!

By the way, WOW is all I have to say when it comes to reviews. WOW.

**Disclaimer-** I don't own Twilight. Yada Yada.

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Music for Renesmee: Part Two

Edward's POV

I lay sprawled on the sofa in our open living room, engrossed in _Romeo and Juliet_. Ever since Bella had defended her favorite play two years ago, before I left her—I still shuddered remembering the new moon of my life—I had put forth an honest attempt to appreciate its better qualities. I had become rather fond of it, actually, although I was loath to admit it to Bella—for that confession I would likely spend the rest of eternity drowning in her smugness.

"_Now_ can I go, Aunt Alice?" Nessie's voice suddenly floated down the stairs in a combination of indulgence and, more prominently, exasperation. Still reading, I allowed a small smile to flicker across my lips at the sound of her much loved voice as she pleaded with her aunt. Despite all of Rosalie's and Alice's diligent endeavors to install a fashion sense in my daughter, there was no doubt that Nessie had taken after her mother in that particular department. She'd been silently enduring a makeover for the last hour, and although she hadn't voiced one word of complaint, I knew she was getting no more pleasure out of the experience than Bella would have.

Alice sighed grudgingly. "Oh, go on," she grumbled. Nessie squealed happily and wasted no time in fleeing the room. I heard something hit the floor and Alice cried, "No, not the shoes!"

But it was too late, and the soft patter of Nessie's bare little feet could be heard advancing towards the stairs before her aunt could stop her. I chuckled lightly as I listened to the encounter.

"I heard that Edward!" Alice shouted down to me, her irritation escalating the volume of her voice unnecessarily. My amused grin merely broadened as she stomped into the recesses of her room, mission failed.

"Daddy!" Nessie cried as she eagerly took the stairs two at a time, a bounce in her graceful step. Even now I couldn't bear to watch Bella fly down that staircase. My obsession over her safety had been permanently instilled in me after two years of watching my weak little human trip over everything from twisted tree roots to air, but I had no problem seeing Renesmee pull the same stunt.

Her nimble six year old body finally slid to an elegant halt beside me, and without pausing she began to tug insistently on my hand.

"Teach me the song!" she pleaded. "You _promised_." Unable to stand still for even a second, she dropped my fingers and skipped to the grand piano that was perched on its platform in the corner, before racing back again to yank me from the couch.

I grinned and relented. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."

I kept her soft, tiny fingers wrapped firmly in mine as she towed me to the piano. Even after seven months, the reality of my perfect little angel still shocked me with its impossibility. Occasionally, although it was less often now, I simply had to assure myself that she existed, that she was real, that she was _mine_. I would lift her into my arms or nuzzle her hair or slip her hand into mine, often without reason. With the inexplicable insight that is unique to children alone, Renesmee understood my need, and she relented to my affections, even reciprocating them with her own adoration.

"What song did you want to learn, again?" I asked her as she shoved me down on the piano bench and plopped down beside me. I knew the answer, of course, but I couldn't resist a little teasing. Bella would chide me for my childish behavior if she was here, but the loving gleam in my wife's eyes would assure me that her heart wasn't in the scolding. I believe she was too euphoric watching Renesmee and I together to truly be angry.

Nessie stuck her tongue out at me crossly. As she unsuccessfully attempted to remain angry with me, I couldn't repress a tender smile. Her expression was as familiar to me as my own name, for not only did it belong to her, but it was her mother's as well. My kittens were adorable when they were mad—or, rather, _trying_ to be mad.

Chuckling, I scooped Nessie onto my lap and promptly proceeded to tickle her little belly. She shrieked in surprise, and then laughter began to shake her small frame. I reveled in the delightful, bell-like tinkling sound that resounded through the room. I had yet to recover from the thrill it gave me when I made her laugh—it was second only to Bella's blush when she had been human. Finally, I relented and reluctantly stopped my insistent tickling. Ignoring her half-hearted, giggling protests, I propped her up on my legs so that she was facing me.

"How was your makeover?" I asked, brushing an unruly strand of hair from her face. I knew Alice would have taken meticulous care to ensure that every thread of hair was placed flawlessly, so it must have come loose on Nessie's dash down the staircase.

She wrinkled her nose. "Aunt Alice put yucky perfume on me. It smelled funny." She rubbed her soft, rosy cheek with her arm, as if the futile action might rid her face of the disagreeable scent.

"It did not smell funny!" Alice's indignant shout echoed from upstairs. Nessie giggled and buried her face against my shoulder. I discerned her muffled voice against my shirt.

"She's grumpy, because I told her—" But before she could finish, she slapped a hand across her mouth and turned wide, appalled eyes on me. For a brief second, I worried that something was wrong—an instinctive reaction that was a result of all the turmoil my family had suffered in the past few years. But I quickly detected a hint of mischief beneath her dismay, assuring me that I had no need throw a fit. Now merely curious, I wracked her thoughts for whatever she seemed so determined to hide from me.

The tactic might have worked when she was younger, but Nessie had since invented numerous, increasingly creative methods of deterring my talent and keeping me out of her head. My brow creased in frustration as she forced the tune of some irritating children show theme song at my mind. Despite her age—we guessed her seven months equaled roughly four or five years—she had no patience for the shows, and more often Bella and I would find her curled up on her bed with Shakespeare or Jane Austen, sucking her thumb thoughtfully. Bella thought the ironic habit was hilarious.

Once she knew she had won our mental battle, Nessie's coy grin developed easily into a sweet smile that made my non-existent heart melt. As with Bella, it was virtually impossible for me to remain angry with Renesmee. I laughed and rubbed my nose against hers in surrender.

With no more delay, I twisted her in my lap so that she was facing the piano. It was our customary position, one that's roots could be traced back to the day of her birth. I hated imagining a time when she would be too big to maintain our routine. I would sorely miss the feel of her warm little body settled on my lap, snuggling into my cold chest—it was moments like these that ultimately convinced me she was mine, and that she was here to stay.

Renesmee sighed impatiently and her tiny hand reached back to grasp my fingers and pull them to the piano keys. I chuckled and kissed the top of her bronze curls. If there was anything she had inherited from me—and, other than looks, there wasn't much—it was her patience. Or, rather, the lack thereof. Bella, who still refused to acknowledge my flaws, didn't think it was my fault, though. She blamed the family, who had thoroughly enjoyed spoiling Nessie since day one. Unable to convince her otherwise, I simply assured her that I didn't care whose fault it was, and that I was perfectly happy to give Nessie anything she wanted.

I began to play Bella's lullaby first. Usually Nessie loved hearing her mother's song, but it soon became blatantly clear that she had no interest in listening to her favorite piece today. She tilted her head back so that she could see my face.

"Not that one," she said softly, her beautiful brown eyes wide and solemn in the funny way she had that reminded me so of Bella. "The other one."

The music broke off and I smiled knowingly. "Are you sure?

She nodded vigorously and I sighed. "Alright sweetheart. Remember to watch."

"I'll remember," she promised, turning back to watch my hands. As I began to play again, I leaned to the side and peered around her curls to watch her face. Her brows were scrunched in concentration, studying my fingertips as they lightly flew across the piano keys. She bit her lip lightly, memorizing every movement; the picture of Bella.

I wanted to close my eyes and cherish that precious moment; embed it in my heart forever, but I couldn't tear my eyes from my angel. I knew for a fact that if I could cry, I would have been weeping. I had been blessed—blessed with the greatest gift God could offer to anyone, damned or not. Maybe, just maybe, Bella was right. Maybe I still had a soul after all. Hope, I had learned, wasn't for nothing—Renesmee, in her very existence, had proved that.

"Daddy?" Nessie asked softly. She shifted to stroke my cheek gently. I blinked as her touch made me realize that the song—_Renesmee's_ song—had ended.

"What is it, sweetheart?" I breathed, equally quiet.

"You look sad," she remarked, her brows furrowing. She looked upset and confused by her observation and she continued to pat my face, searching for an explanation. I drew in a sharp breath at the lost look in her eyes. Sometimes, I think that we tended to assume that she was very mature and grown-up, and in many ways, it was true. But there was still a part of her that was only a child, a very young child, who only wanted her daddy to be happy and didn't—_couldn't_—understand that the tearful look in his eyes was expressing a deep, eternal joy that words would not suffice.

Too choked up to respond, I pulled her to my chest tightly and she buried her face in my shoulder, nuzzling into me, like she couldn't get close enough.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" she asked desperately, bewildered and a little scared. She flashed pictures at me, of her watching me play. Had she done something wrong?

I buried my face in her curls and shook my head against her. "No, baby, you did nothing wrong. You're perfect. I'm not sad. I'm happy. Very, very happy. And I love you." I pulled back so that I could look at her. I needed her to see the conviction in my eyes, knowing it would assure her.

Still too distraught to form coherent words, Nessie pressed her hot little hand to my skin. _I love you too._

I rocked her gently as she began to relax, crooning Bella's lullaby soothingly in her ear, and soon her breathing was steady; so steady, in fact, that I wondered if she had fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, she poked her head up and looked at me.

"Can I play now?" she asked quietly.

Relieved that she had recovered, I nodded and pressed my lips to her forehead. "Of course you can, darling," I assured her.

Pleased, Nessie twisted around to face the piano. She placed her delicate little fingers expertly upon the keys, arching them perfectly, exactly as I had taught her. I could tell she was smiling as I wound my arms around her waist and touched my lips softly to her hair, leaving my head upon hers to watch the performance. She had wanted to learn her song for a long time, but I was reluctant to give it to her. I could teach her Esme's favorite and several others, but this song was _mine_. I couldn't bear to part with it, but now, as she began to play, copying my memorized movements flawlessly, I wondered at my reluctance.

It was fitting, I supposed, that she played the song so perfectly. This was _her_ song, after all. So I wasn't surprised in the least that her fingers danced across the keys without the typical hesitation she might display had this been her first try at any other piece. She unconsciously swayed to the melody and each note swept enthusiastically beneath her touch, summoned willingly as she asked it to join her and add itself to her music. She knew the song by heart and every rhythm, every crescendo, every decrescendo, every accent, was already a part of her subconscious. To her, they weren't technicalities. Rather, they were who she was as my daughter and as a person. They made her Renesmee.

When the last note hovered in the air around us, I was dangerously close to those nonexistent tears again, and I struggled to reassemble my expression before Nessie could see. She turned to look at me with glowing, radiant eyes, like she knew exactly what she had just done, and exactly how wonderful it had been. Throwing her arms around my neck, she whispered, "That was good, wasn't it Daddy?"

I chuckled, exuberant. "It was stunning, Nessie. _You_ are stunning."

Her skin grew impossibly hotter against my neck as she blushed under my praise. Suddenly, she giggled. "Alice is grumpy because I told her you would throw away all her dress-up stuff if she tried to do, you know, what she did _last_ time."

I blinked in puzzlement as I attempted to connect her confession with what had just passed. Then I remembered what she had been so reluctant to share with me earlier and I broke into laughter. I distinctly recalled the instance that had occurred only five days earlier, in which Alice had seen fit to experiment on Nessie with a low cut ball gown of a sinful red shade. Jake—who I had very few qualms with at this point—had gaped at his imprint for a full twenty seconds before a very confused Nessie could get his attention. Meanwhile, I had fumed a few feet away, forced to watch the fantasies of a hormonal teenager imagining my daughter fifteen years older. Bella managed to calm me before I could 'address' Alice, but later at the cottage I had winked at Nessie and told her that if her aunt ever pulled a stunt like that again, I would cheerfully rip her to shreds—after, of course, I got rid of all her 'dress-up stuff'. I meant none of it, but Nessie seemed to have taken my words to heart.

"Would you really throw out all her stuff, Daddy?" she asked, quite seriously, as she tried to discern my amused expression.

I tapped her on the nose playfully. "Probably not," I told her regretfully. She made a face, clearly disappointed with my response. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I wanted you to throw out all her stuff," she admitted sheepishly, looking down at her hands as they fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

I blinked in surprise. Nessie studied my face carefully, obviously trying to decide what reaction she should anticipate. I simply shook my head and hugged her tightly.

"How you never cease to amaze me," I muttered under my breath. There was no way around it. Renesmee was definitely Bella's daughter.

Nessie giggled. The beautiful sound reminded me of tinkling bells. How fitting.

"I love you Renesmee," I whispered into her ear, tilting my head to kiss her cheek. "Forever." It was only one thing to be said. Anything else would have been utterly unacceptable.

She clutched me closer, like she had no intention of ever releasing me. _I love you too, Daddy. Forever._

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**Author's Note-** Being the huge sucker for fluff that I am, I loved this chapter. I'm not crazy about the end though, and I might change it a little, but it won't be anything drastic.

I also have an idea about what's going to happen in the next chapter, and I left a clue in this chapter. See if you can guess. Also, if you have any ideas for cute moments between Nessie and Edward, I'd love to hear them! I can't think of many that aren't completely OOC. Try to make sure they include music in some way, in keeping with the title, and there can be other family members involved, but Edward and Renesmee have to interact somehow.

I'm not going to make promises about the next update. It'll get here when it gets here. In the meantime, leave a review! Pretty please with Edward on top! :D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I hope you all know what a miracle it is that I actually updated this story. I've pretty much forsaken fanfiction(dot)net for the last year or so. But I was poking around and reading all the reviews to this story and I was so touched by everyone's kind comments that I felt inspired to write a little more. I literally just wrote this in the last two hours and I hope you like it!

Please don't expect updates on any of my other stories. I'm bored with writing fanfiction. I've become involved with fictionpress(dot)com. My account can be found here: www(dot)fictionpress(dot)com/u/632339/OutChasingRainbows if you want to check me out. Drop by and leave a review? I just started posting a story (Where the Horizon Ends) that I'm almost halfway through writing (that means updates will be quick) and I'd love some more feedback on it, or on any of my stories. Thanks and maybe I'll see you around!

By the way, if you're looking for an amazing story to read and you're not squeamish of M rated fics, check out The University of Edward Masen. It is one of the few stories I still follow on and it is my mini obsession. Seriously, go read it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

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Music For Renesmee

Renesmee's POV

"Is this killing Daddy?" I asked quietly, keeping my eyes trained on the floral design Aunt Alice had shoved in front of my nose that morning. That was after Daddy had marched out of the room in the wake of Jake's less than chastise good morning kiss to my lips. Stupid werewolf. Everyone knew he did it on purpose. My father had been standing _right there_.

My mother joined me on my bed and stroked my hair. "You know how your father is. He loves you. I think it would kill him more to see you walk away."

"He really needs to get over that whole 'blaming himself for anything wrong that goes wrong around here' thing," I said.

My mother laughed and kissed me. "He wouldn't know what to do with himself, honey. He'd get a complex."

"I'm serious. Jake won't mind waiting. It's not like we're in a hurry. And he deserves it for what he did this morning."

My mother smiled. "Oh please. Those two have had it in for each other since before you were born. Jake's just getting back at your father for the torture he put Jake through when _we_ got married."

"You're not helping." I growled. It's what I got for being a werewolf's intended.

My mother sighed. "I'll talk to him, if you want," she offered. "But Nessie, try to understand. It's not just Jacob. This is hard for him because he's losing you."

I groaned. I had heard all this before. "But he's _not_ losing me. I'll be a couple miles into the woods at the house Esme built for us." I blushed, thinking about my new life there—as Mrs. Renesmee Black. The thought made me tingle all over. It felt like I had been waiting for this my whole life—all eight long years of my very short life.

My mother knew exactly what I was thinking. Daddy always said that she and I were so much alike. Of course, she liked to think I was more like him than her, but I knew what he meant. Neither of us liked attention, or gifts, or petty things that we had no use for but that were continuously thrust upon us by our _dear, loving_ family—ahem, Auntie Alice.

For example, this floral arrangement I was supposed to be examining. The truth was, I would be getting this arrangement whether I liked it or not. Which I didn't. If it were up to me, Jake and I would have gone to Vegas weeks ago. We'd be spending our honeymoon in a cheap little hotel room right now and it would hardly matter to us. We'd only be using it for one thing, anyway.

By accident, I forgot to hide my thoughts and my mother saw what I'd been imaging. I turned red and buried my face in my hands. "_Sorry_," I moaned. "It's not like I can help it."

She laughed. "Just be glad it was your father and not me."

"You can say that again," I muttered.

Aunt Alice flitted in without any warning a human would have heard. "What do you think? Perfect isn't it?" she gushed, beaming. It took me a moment to figure out that she was talking about the flowers. She wilted at my lack of response.

"You don't like it?"

I sat up. "No fair. You didn't make Mom do any of this stuff for her wedding."

"Not true," Aunt Alice retorted. "We ran everything by her before we made the final decisions."

"Like I had any say," my mother teased.

"You didn't want any say," Aunt Alice reminded her victoriously.

"That's it. I'm out." I got up to leave before they could have a full blown memory-fest.

"Where are you going?" Aunt Alice cried. "I have more floral options." She dumped a pile of papers on the bed.

"To find Jake," I said. Duh.

"I'll look through them with you," my mother consoled Aunt Alice. "These ones are nice," I heard her say as I escaped out the door.

Jacob was waiting for me at the mansion. "Sorry about this morning," he said, kissing my forehead.

"No you're not," I said, brushing past him when all I really wanted to do was snuggle into his arms. Served him right. He deserved to suffer for a little while.

"Maybe not," Jake admitted. I didn't miss the smugness in his voice and I slapped him on the arm.

"You know, you could try to be just a little helpful," I said, glaring at him. "This is really hard for Daddy and you don't even care."

"That's not true," Jake argued. I tried not to fall for the hurt in his big, brown puppy dog eyes. He rubbed his arm where I hit him and I smiled grimly.

"Prove it."

"Fine. I'll go and apologize."

"Don't bother. I know you won't mean it."

"Of course I'll mean it." He came very close to me. When I tried to avoid his touch, I backed right into the wall instead. I was cornered and we both knew it. His hot hands cupped my face and I couldn't help but hum in pleasure.

"Go away, Jake," I said half-heartedly, trying and failing to keep the appropriate malice in my voice.

"Not likely."

I shoved his chest but he was too strong. Stupid werewolf muscles. _Hot_ werewolf muscles. "_Jake_."

"Nessie, listen to me."

"Do I have a choice?"

He gloated. "Nope."

I sighed and gave in, leaning into his warm touch. "Fine."

"Aww, Nessie, don't be like that. I would never hurt your father, not really." He leaned his forehead against mine and our warm skin mingled. I breathed in his scent, musky and wild.

"Oh really?"

"Really, really."

"Why not?"

"Because, silly. He gave me _you_." He was kissing me before I was even aware of it. By the time I did, I was in no mood to stop him. I leaned into his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. I played with his soft, cropped black hair as I pushed my lips forward to meet his. Soon I felt his tongue prying at my mouth. I granted him entrance and our tongues met, dancing. I sighed in pleasure and tried to press even closer, but it was impossible. I would never be close enough.

Jake finally pushed me away when I tried to wrap my legs around his waist.

"I'm not sure if this is the best time for that," he whispered suggestively, glancing around to see if any vampires had snuck into the room while our attention was…otherwise occupied. But Esme, Rose and Emmett were out hunting, Carlisle was at the hospital, and Jasper was too much of a gentleman to invade our privacy. I didn't know where Daddy was, but he would have interrupted us a long time ago if he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"All clear," I noted. "Let's go to your house. Billy's out fishing, isn't he?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "As tantalizing as that sounds, I hardly think your family would appreciate it. I steal you away too much."

"I think Daddy's rubbing off on you. Did you just use the word _tantalizing_?"

"Shut up." He punched me playfully. I punched back and was going to bite him, but before we could engage in an all-out wrestling match, something caught my ear. It was a familiar sound, one that so filled my childhood that it was as much a part of me as Jake was. I paused and felt Jake relax around me. He sighed.

"Go."

I smiled. That was why I loved him. He understood why I had to do what I was going to do.

"Thanks," I said.

"Love you," he replied, kissing me one last time. I leaned into him for a moment. When I tried to leave, he held onto me. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, go play werewolf or something."

He pretended to look hurt. "Playing werewolf, as you so respectfully put it, is serious business."

I laughed. "You're such a kid, Jake."

He winked. "Thanks. I love you too." He finally let go. I gave him one last look before heading for the stairs.

Upstairs, I went directly to the last room on the left. It wasn't used often, now that Daddy lived in our cottage, but I knew it had belonged to him before he married Mom. It held memories—I knew that too.

The whisper of the piano came from this room. The white grand piano was kept downstairs in the living room, but Daddy had come home with another one a few years ago and put it his old bedroom. It was where he came when he was in a brooding mood. Usually, my mother was the one to join him there. They had shared a lot in this room. It was where he first proposed to her.

I listened to the song he was playing. I had never heard it before. It wasn't in fragments, like the ones he was in the process of composing, and it wasn't messy and silly, the way I insisted my own compositions sounded, although he begged to differ. It was new, and whole. It broke my heart and I knew immediately that it was about loss and love and letting go. I blinked away the wetness that was pooling at my eyes and thought about what my mother had said before. I started to understand, and that made me want to cry harder.

I wondered if he knew I was out here. Probably. He probably heard the entire spiel between Jake and I. And the kiss. I blushed at the thought.

After awhile, the song he was playing changed. He transitioned into a new piece, also something that was unfamiliar to me. All of a sudden, I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to tell me he wasn't mad, and that everything would be alright.

"Daddy," I whispered, opening the door. He stopped playing abruptly.

It was easy to see why Esme thought we looked so much alike. Our hair was the same coppery-red color, although mine was shade lighter.

"Daddy," I said again, and he opened his arms. I didn't even hesitate. I flew to him, vampire speed, and buried my face in his shoulder. I cried silently against him for a long time.

When I was done, I pulled back and examined the salt-water stains on his shirt.

"Sorry." I hiccupped. He smiled crookedly, although it didn't reach his eyes, and brushed away the wetness on my cheeks.

"The only one who will mourn the ruin of this shirt is Alice," he promised and kissed my forehead. I smiled conspiratorially.

"You won't tell, will you?"

He chuckled, and I was relieved that he no longer seemed so sad. "Actually, I think she may already have seen it happen. She was glaring at me before."

I giggled. "What were you playing, just now?" I asked.

"Nope." He shook his head and smiled smugly. For being mortal enemies and all that, he and Jake were a lot alike. They both enjoyed torturing other people, for example. The look on his face reminded me of when I was little and wanted to know what I was getting for my birthday. He would even blackmail Jake into not telling, just to keep the secret, because Jake couldn't say no to me. Daddy usually threatened our future together, or something along those lines.

"Why not?" I whined, which made him chuckle.

"It's a surprise," he said firmly.

"I hate surprises," I grumbled.

Daddy rolled his eyes. "And Bella insists you take after _me_," he said under his breath, sarcastically.

"When do I get to find out?" I pressed, annoyed.

"September tenth," he replied immediately.

"That's my wedding day," I said. And my birthday. Which was nice, because it meant I only had to suffer the attention one day instead of two, but the real reason we picked it was because it was the day Jacob imprinted on me.

"Exactly."

"You're not going to make me dance with you, are you?" I asked, scared now. For being half vampire, I was a hopeless clutz. That meant dancing was off limits.

Daddy raised an eyebrow. "You know, your mother said the same thing, and yet she never broke, sprained, cut, or bruised anything in my arms."

"I'll take your word for it, how's that?"

He chuckled and planted another tender kiss on my forehead. No one ever made me feel as loved as my father did, not even Jake. My connection with Jake went deeper than love, was buried right in our very souls, but Daddy's love was different. It was our own special connection.

"Either way," he said. "This has nothing to do with dancing."

"_Please_ tell me," I pleaded, trying out the lost puppy dog look I had learned from Jake.

Daddy groaned. "You're impossible. And I'm going to kill that mutt."

"No you won't," I laughed. "That would make me sad."

Apparently, it was no laughing matter for my father. His expression darkened. I rested my head on his shoulder again.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I said quietly.

"Don't be. It's my fault. I shouldn't let it get to me. We always knew this day was coming. Oddly enough, it was your mother who was most vehemently against it in the beginning." He frowned, remembering. I remembered too, the day Mom had tried to attack Jake for imprinting on me and had ended up breaking Seth's arm.

I wanted to distract him. I pressed my warm hand to his frozen skin and concentrated, showing him a different memory. This was the first one I truly remembered of him. I was sitting in his lap, not three days after I was born, and he was playing my song for me. I smiled at him now.

"Love you," I said.

He smiled and it was a real smile, at last. "I love you too. For eternity, Renesmee."

I reached for the piano and started tinkering. His hands joined mine and soon the melody of our duet was spinning and weaving like magic in the air. I peeked at my father out of the corner of my eye and knew that everything was going to better than alright.

It was going to be perfect.


End file.
